


Making History

by theLiterator



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6272101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara Lance will know her beloved in any decade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making History

**Author's Note:**

> This was written _technically_ as a companion fic to a short ficlet I posted on my tumblr [here](http://theliterator.tumblr.com/post/141133297604/spiral-fic-nyssasara), though it works fine on its own, I think.

Sara was inhaling mountain air in relief when she heard the scream, and Len’s shouted “Wait for _backup_!” barely registered as she was off like a shot in the direction of the noise.

It had sounded… heartrendingly familiar, even though she shouldn’t know anything about Afghanistan in 2002, shouldn’t know _anyone_. In 2002 she’s been too busy getting high and having sex to know much of anything at all, but still.

Her feet pounded out a path that felt familiar, though she knew very little about the Hindu Kush-- the Khyber Pass was a little bit south of where she’d end up in a few years’ time, after all, and no one in the League was stupid enough to interfere with the NATO operations in Afghanistan proper.

Still, as she pounded down a rocky path, it felt like deja vu, and when she found the group at the end of it, _League_ assassins hovering over a still form, familiar crimson soaking into the desiccated ground, Sara shouted a challenge and drew her bo, flinging herself into their midst.

“Sara!” Rip shouted, too far behind her to stop her, so she ignored him, fighting her way through the men until she could see what they were… killing.

She was too young, Sara thought, but of course she was, in 2002, and her hair was glinting almost auburn in the mountain sunset, and she’d been stabbed several times, at least one of them fatal with the limitations of the era and the remote location.

Sara glanced up the mountain, knowing, now, why it was so familiar-- the coordinates must have been off, or the navigation, or _something_ , because this was not Afghanistan.

This was Nanda Parbat, and Nyssa would live whether _Sara_ saved her or not, but if Sara saved her, she would live _free_ , and Sara owed her that much, at least.

Sara owed her _everything_.

“Nyssa,” Sara breathed. “Habibti, you just hang in there, okay?” Rip was shouting again, and Sara ignored him and hauled her Beloved in her arms and stood up, disregarding the blood.

Len was there, and he didn’t try to take Nyssa from her, but he did press his hands to the worst of the wounds, keeping as much blood in place as he could.

“You can’t take her back to the ship, Sara. This wasn’t meant to happen!” Rip was shouting and trying to block her path, but Len had his gun out and up in his free hand, and Sara was snarling and fierce in the face of bloody combat, so he kept sidestepping and backing up.

“It already _has_ ,” she snapped.

***

Gideon was far less interested in the integrity of the timeline or whatever, and far more interested in helping Sara attend to Nyssa’s medical care. Still, by the time everything had been sutured up with the magic skin healer thing, and Sara had finished her live blood transfusion, she was exhausted.

Exhausted and _anxious_ , waiting for familiar eyes to open in a too-young face, waiting to know that she had done the right thing.

Len kept checking in on her, and Rip had come by a few hours ago too, hovering in the doorway, then laying a hand on Sara’s shoulder, squeezing once, and then fleeing.

For a guy who was in this to save his wife and kid, he sure had a hard time dealing with other people who had families, Sara thought.

Her fingers were tight around Nyssa’s hand, and finally, _finally_ those eyes flickered open.

 _”Where am I?”_ Nyssa demanded. Her voice cracked, and Sara reached, one handed, to pour her water from the pitcher Len must have left her. Or maybe Jax or Ray-- they were more the type for that.

 _”Safe, beloved,”_ Sara replied, the League’s Arabic flowing off her tongue easily even after all time she had spent trying to divorce herself from it. _”You’re among friends,”_ she added, hoping Nyssa would believe her.

Even injured, she’d be a vicious opponent, especially since Sara wouldn’t dare hurt her, but Nyssa would have no reason to offer her the same courtesy.

“I should be dead,” Nyssa said in thick, careful English. She twisted her hand free of Sara’s and touched her torso where it had been healed. “How did you--”

Sara laughed a little. “You won’t believe me, beloved, even if I tell you everything.”

Nyssa grinned back, a fierce, familiar expression painted pale by pain and blood-loss.

“Try me,” she replied, and Sara, unable to resist anything Nyssa asked, no matter her age, told her everything.

***

“I’ll keep watch here,” Len said, startling Sara from the light doze she’d slipped into nce Nyssa had fallen back asleep. “You go get some shut-eye. You’re no good to me exhausted.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sara said sarcastically, but then the smoothed Nyssa’s hair out of her face for the hundredth time. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Len replied, “But do go on and repeat that. Someone who believes it might even hear you.”

Sara shrugged. “I will be fine,” she corrected.

“Yes, after you sleep.”

“Nyssa--”

“I’ll look after her like she’s my own sister,” Len said urging her out of her seat at Nyssa’s bedside. “And I promise not to fight her if she wakes up and panics.”

Sara stared at him, wondering, as always, how he _knew_ and knowing that she’d probably never find out. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t let Rip-- _anyone_ \-- talk to her,” she added. “I don’t want to fuck up my own timeline.”

“Seems to me like your timeline would be _worse_ off if you’d left her for dead,” Len said slowly. “And the rest of the crew is in agreement with me.”

“Fine,” Sara said, instead of thanks.

“You’re welcome,” Len said, because he was an asshole.

***

Once Nyssa was strong enough to leave, Rip started making impatient noises about where they were _supposed_ to have landed, and Sara took the hint far more gracefully, Len informed her, than _he_ would have.

So she walked with Nyssa’s hand cupped loose and comfortable in her own, feet following the familiar paths yet again, waiting until she couldn’t even smell the telltale-metallic tang of the Waverider before speaking.

“You’ll have to climb up alone,” Sara said.

Nyssa shrugged. “Everyone does,” she replied. Sara snorted softly in agreement, squeezed the hand held in hers tightly for a moment.

“When will I meet you for the first time?” Nyssa asked her.

“I’m not the same person I was then,” Sara warned, remembering how desperate she had been, how weak. Mad with thirst and sunstroke, dying on the open sea all over again, being fished out by a terrible great ship all over again. Remembering _Nyssa_ and her cold, clear orders, and cold clear water to ease her thirst.

“You call me beloved,” Nyssa said carefully. “Will I call you beloved back?”

Sara nodded thoughtfully, and Nyssa leaned in to press a small kiss to the corner of Sara’s mouth. It was nowhere _near_ enough, and yet, somehow, exactly right.

“I think you must not change very much between then and now, for me to call you beloved back,” Nyssa whispered.

Sara used her free hand to cup the back of Nyssa’s head, to tilt her close for a proper kiss, sweet and short, a burst of salt and skin on her lips that she knows as well as she knows anything in the world.

“I’ve gotta go,” Sara said, regretfully. Nyssa smiled at her, a true-smile, the sort of smile Nyssa could only ever give to those she trusted more than life itself.

“But you’ll come back,” Nyssa replied. “Whenever it is you come from.”

“Maybe,” Sara replied.

“Yes,” Nyssa said, and then she slipped from Sara’s grip and started her climb up the mountainside.

Sara touched her lips one last time and deliberately turned her back on Nyssa, walking back to the Waverider.

Len was waiting for her at the gangway, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. “Did you have fun?” he drawled. Sara laughed, and he smiled a little and dragged her into a hug.

When they get inside, the rest of the crew is waiting for her, and Len draws away with a murmured promise: “You’ll see her again,” and a slap to the shoulder.

She really hoped he was right about that.


End file.
